Harry Parody and the Missing Potions Notebook
by NaughtyTautology
Summary: Hermione's potions notebook disappears, and, true to form, the kids decide to investigate in the most dangerous and roundabout manner possible. A gentle jab at both fanfic and canon.
1. Proposals

It had been a long day and it didn't promise to end early. Despite the sluggish history class, the unfounded but fast-spreading rumours about Harry's long-lost sister, the usual attempt on Neville's part to blow up potions class, and the mediocre dinner, Hermione still had convinced Ron and Harry that they should take time to study for the upcoming potions test.  
Now they filed into the Gryffindor common room, and Hermione promptly sat at a table and began rummaging through her books. Ron and Harry, hardly enthusiastic at the prospect of studying inane uses of dandelions, sat near the fireplace.  
"I hate potions." said Ron conversationally.  
"And Snape." added Harry automatically.  
"Hey..." Both Harry and Ron noticed the trace of alarm in Hermione's voice. They turned and looked at her. She was pale.  
"Oh, we here go," muttered Ron, "She looks like she's misplaced her notebook or something."  
"My potions notebook has been stolen!" she announced dramatically.  
Harry and Ron snickered.  
"Good one, Ron."  
"And what are you laughing at?" She joined them at the fireplace. "The test is Friday and I don't know whose notes you're going to study from."  
Ron frowned. "Actually, I wasn't planning to study at all - surely there's going to be some macrocosmic distraction involving Lord Voldemort, Dumbledore, and Harry here - I mean - how can Snape expect to fail me with all that going on??"  
"Especially if you don't have Hermione's notebook to study from!!"  
"Right." Hermione glared at him, and he shrugged in his best impression of innocence.  
"Let's try to track it down," offered Harry, "if there's a macrocosmic distraction waiting to unfold it has to start with something as simple as a lost notebook."  
"But hasn't the notebook ploy been done already?"  
Harry paused. "That was a diary, Hermione."  
"Oh! well - let's just find mine and get it over with." She cleared her throat. "Now I just noticed it was missing a few minutes ago, but I haven't opened my bag since .. before dinner. But the last time I saw it was potions class - which would make sense-" she paused when she felt two pairs of aghast eyes staring at her. The fire crackled obnoxiously in the silence. "What?"  
Harry sighed and then spoke as if describing a simple process to a young child, "Hermione, we must undertake this investigation in the most dangerous and round-about manner possible."  
"...but-"  
"Where's your sense of the dramatic?"  
"Wel-"  
"Yeah, it's no fun if we figure out who the culprit is in the first chapter, now is it?" asked Ron exasperatedly.  
Hermione finally seemed to comprehend. "Ok...." She looked about the room in thought, then it came to her. "Malfoy! He wo-"  
"OH!" they groaned; Harry put his hand to his forehead.  
Hermione looked righteously offended. "He would! He's not as smart as he pretends to be, and he was my partner today - for whatever reason -- Merlin knows our author is trying to plot some romantic angst-filled get togethe-- Well that won't happen!" she announced to the room in general. Ron rolled his eyes; Harry attempted to look sympathetic.  
"No, Hermione - Malfoy's too obvious.. He can't -- I mean.. He likes to be sneaky, and.." he trailed off. "well... he's just - he's insecure and ...vulnerable - and... and... I love him." He folded his arms and nodded earnestly at the other two, his emerald green eyes glistening with oncoming tears.  
Ron took Harry's shoulder in a firm but platonic grasp and shook him. "Harry, you're having a moment of Slash, and you'd better stop it right now."  
Harry's eyes cleared. "Oh.. right - Malfoy, yes far too obvious, Hermione."  
"Right, let me try then," said Ron. He cleared his throat and furrowed his brow for dramatic effect. "Snape."  
"But he would want me to learn!" protested Hermione.  
"AH, but that's what the old git wants you to think! He stole your notebook so you'll fail and then he... he can.." Clearly, the wheels were turning in Ron's head, but they weren't producing much.  
"Then he can be spiteful!" finished Harry. There was another pause as the three mulled this over. Finally Hermione spoke.  
"No," she said smugly. "It was FILCH!"  
"OHhh! Filch!"  
"Good one!"  
"He hates me because... because Crookshanks is a far superior cat to Mrs. Norris."  
"Right!"  
"AND...." she paused, grinning like a proud four-year old about to deliver her first punchline, "he is secretly working for Lord Voldemort."  
"Now that's much more plausible" approved Harry.  
"Further," she added triumphantly, "Filch is a synonymn for to steal!"  
"That's it! Brilliant, Hermione! Let's go interrogate him!" cried Ron and he jumped up, leaving the other two to chase him into the hallway; even as Harry yelled after him:  
"But Ron - that's too straightforward!" 


	2. Filch

The three Gryffindors ran down the hallway.   
"Wait, which way are we going?" asked Hermione breathlessly.  
"Oh -somewhere - we'll run into Filch soon enough," said Ron  
"Or someone else critical to plot development," said Harry, as they ran past an old-looking urn with blue night flowers springing forth.  
"Right."   
"No running in the hall," called a lazy prefect who did not bother to look up from his _Lemony Snicket_ book.  
"This way," cried Hermione and darted down a corridor in the opposite direction of the prefect.   
As they neared yet another hallway they could hear voices. "Freeze!" whispered Ron, and they huddled against the wall. "There we go - someone's plotting now!" they listened wide-eyed to the voices coming from around the corner.  
  
"I say now - same old clouds day in, day out.." complained a proper sounding British patriach.  
"Oh stop your complaining, they're lovely."  
"Damned plain enough to put a shrub to sleep, I tell you!"  
"Funny they never do put you to sleep, you're always bickering, you two" added a third voice.  
  
By now Harry and Ron were frowning in utmost consternation. Hermione sighed and pulled them into the hallway. "Look now this is what Dumbledore gets for hanging Constable landscapes around the place!" she complained, and she pointed to the source of the voices: a painting that featured bushes overlooking a valley in sunset.  
"Oh well.. that's .. nice" Ron said, scratching his head.  
"Come on, we've got to find Filch and get to the bottom of this mystery!" cried Harry and he pulled them further down the hall where there seemed to be significantly less light. Within a few moments they were out of breath and had to slow down.   
"Funny, I've never seen this part of the castle before," breathed Ron, pointing at stone walls which had taken on a distinctively orange tone.  
"If you had read _Hogwarts, a History_ you would know that new sections of the school keep materializing in order to provide interesting changes of scene and new clues," said Hermione primly.  
"Hey, you've gotten quiet, Harry.." Ron said. He turned to Harry, who was now trailing behind him and Hermione.  
"Just thinking," answered Harry, his eyes cast downward. "You don't know how these dark and morbid corridors make me shudder - not for the bone-chilling cold; no, I am far too used to that - but rather with the innermost despair that not even the deepest warmth nor the brightest love could touch--"  
"Harry!" yelled Ron.  
"Hm?" he looked up, his eyes now lifeless and dull. Shapeless shadows ominously drifted across the walls behind him.  
"You are having a moment of ANGST - don't DO that now, get a hold of yourself!"  
"'Moment of Angst?' Sounds like a moment of 19th Century Gothic Novella to me," grumbled Hermione.  
"Sorry," said Harry, straightening himself. "Let's find Filch."   
  
After more wanderings, which included their encounters with Peeves the Poltergeist and a frisky oriental rug that they had never seen before, Harry, Hermione and Ron finally came across Filch. He was standing in an open area in front of a large mirror, clutching his beloved Mrs. Norris and muttering quietly.  
"Shh - what's he saying?" whispered Ron, as they crept closer.  
"Da dad.. doy.. was deaten.." They could see Filch grimacing in the mirror.  
"Some kind of incantation?" ventured Hermione.  
"Ventriloquism," said Harry, his eyes narrowing. "It is indeed a dark art."  
"He must be practicing for when Mrs. Norris dies," added Ron with a chuckle.  
"Ron, that's mean!" said Hermione. Harry was about to silence his companions, but too late. Filch turned around menacingly.  
"What are you three doing now!?" he approached. Mrs. Norris turned her ears back in distaste.  
"Er, uh - what were we going to do now that we found him?" Ron whispered in the direction of Harry.   
"Mr. Filch," said Harry, as he stepped forward in heroic manner. "We wanted to ask you if you had … found Hermione's notebook."   
Filch frowned and considered. "No."  
The three students waited.   
"NOW GET BACK TO BED! We ought to institute a six o'clock curfew.. can't do anything in peace around here," Filch grumbled.  
"What - is that it?" asked Harry, confused.  
"And do you want detention too?! I haven't seen any notebooks!" Filch turned back to the mirror as the students ran off.  
  
"Maybe Filch wasn't the best answer," said Hermione once they had reached safer corridors.  
"No, Hermione, I think it was the best answer, just… maybe not the right answer," said Harry consolingly.  
"I still like my Snape answer," offered Ron, then he added for good measure, "he's such a greasy old git."   
"Yes, he is," said Harry automatically. He scowled and began to ponder (fruitlessly) the possible reasons for Snape's apparent hatred.  
"Well, I'm sure if we take this next left Hogwarts will conveniently produce a staircase leading us straight to his office!" said Hermione.   
"Right, then we can send someone in to seduce him and steal the notebook back!" said Harry, in good spirits once again.  
"HARRY!!"  
"That wasn't necessarily a moment of Slash!" he protested.  
"Yes, it was," snapped Hermione. They took the next left. 


	3. Snape

  
  
Once they had reached the door to Snape's office, Harry, Ron and Hermione stopped.   
"Well - time for an ill-conceived plan," Harry announced, out of breath from running.  
"I don't think we should all have to go in," said Ron, trying not to look nervous.  
"I'll go, it's my notebook we're after," said Hermione, and she reached for the door.  
"No, no - I'm the reluctant hero. If anyone has to have a heart-to-heart with Snape, it's me," sighed Harry and he looked down the hallway in noble, self-sacrificial determination.   
Hermione regarded him skeptically. "Who said anything about heart-to-hearts? We're just going to ask for my notebook back!"  
"But-" Harry protested. "It's Snape - you can't just have two lines of dialogue with him. Every encounter is a confrontation! A battle of will with personal honour at stake!"   
"You could get killed in there!" added Ron, wide-eyed.  
"Ok," Hermione sighed, "I guess you had better go in then, Harry. Now would be a fine time for him not to be in his office."   
Harry steadied himself and knocked on the door.  
"COME IN!" It was the unmistakable bellow of Professor Snape. Harry drew in a deep breath and opened the door.He was struck immediately by the piercing bright reflection off the grease from Snape's hair. All the remaining office space was darkness and gloom. Shelves came into focus; they were covered with bottles of strange liquids and suspended animal parts. Only after another few moments could Harry make out the incongruously cheerful strains of a Schubert piano trio in the background. He screwed up his face in confusion.  
"Mr. Potter," sneered Snape from behind his desk. "This is a surprise. I suppose you were trying to catch me in the hot embrace of a fellow teacher… or student?" he asked pointedly.  
"Uh.. No, sir." Harry felt his cheeks go pink.  
"Worse still," Snape went on ironically, encouraged by the open-mouthed student, "you have discovered my penchant for chamber music." He waved his wand casually and the music stopped.   
Harry was indeed surprised.  
"What then - you can't possibly want help with potions two days before the test."   
"No!" Harry realized that might have sounded a bit hostile; Snape raised a greasy eyebrow challengingly. "Sir - I mean, this is about potions class. Hermione has lost her notebook."  
"Clearly she is too embarrassed to come to me about it herself."   
"Well she's studying - for.. another class," Harry stumbled.  
Snape turned his head slightly, as if looking about the room would give him another idea for an insult; his long, greasy hair turned with him, and Harry blinked as the reflected light shot at his eyes. "Luckily she has friends fool enough to go running errands for her, I…" Harry didn't pick up the rest of this dialogue, as he was too morbidly interested in the amount of light shining off Snape's head. Was there that much light actually in the room? Really, Snape's hair was exceedingly greasy tonight.   
"Is my hair so fascinating, Mr. Potter - did you want shampoo secrets from the potions master, is that it?" Snape glared at him.  
"No, sir. Not at all! - We were just wondering if you had found it - the notebook - after class…?"   
Snape sighed in exasperation. "I remember seeing no such notebook, although I can't promise I didn't throw it out as I was cleaning up the mess of that fool Longbottom's disaster - or rather, that it was destroyed _during_ the disaster.." He shook his head at the thought. Harry carefully avoided looking at his hair.  
"Well, uh - thank you, Sir.. I'll just be on my way then," said Harry, going for the door.  
Snape glared after him like a snake about to strike, but he said nothing more. 

"You're alive!" said Ron when Harry joined them in the hall.  
"Yes, actually," said Harry, a bit surprised himself. When they were out of range of the office he added, "Did you know how greasy Snape's hair is?? I mean, really!"  
"Of course, that's his defining characteristic," announced Hermione matter-of-factly.  
"Nah, that's his sneer," said Ron.   
"And here I was all along thinking it was the silky, dangerous voice," said Harry bemusedly.   
"No, it's the hair," corrected Hermione.  
"The sneer," said Ron.  
"Hair."  
Harry sighed. "Stop arguing, you two. It doesn't matter; he didn't have your notebook!"  
"Well excuse us," said Ron frowning.  
"But this has been fruitless, can't you see?" said Harry, "What good have all our investigations been? This is probably some scheme set to lead us astray - don't look at me like that! " He was suddenly furious, but he couldn't even have said why himself. "How come you two are always tagging along and can never understand me!? why don't you just -- just go away and leave me alone!!" he cried, fuming with rage.  
"But Harry, you're having a moment of--" Ron stopped, suddenly pale.  
"Book Five," finished Hermione with a smirk.  
"Oh." Harry frowned. Ron scratched his head and seemed to become very interested in the stones in the wall.  
"Come on," said Hermione, "I bet it's Malfoy after all."  
"Where are we going then?" asked Ron as they followed Hermione down yet another dark corridor.  
"Slytherin common room."   
"But-"  
"I know, Harry - and it's time for the obvious solution!"


	4. Malfoy

"Where exactly.. IS the Slytherin common room?"  
"Uh... "  
Hermione glared. "We've been running about the school for 15 minutes! Didn't you two infiltrate it in the second year?"  
"Well you know -- it's Hogwarts.. I think.. it moves," Harry raised his eyebrows in a weak attempt to look convincing. Hermione did not look at all convinced. "It should be... around here somewhere," Harry gestured aimlessly.  
"Hmph. _Accio_ Slytherin common room," muttered Hermione. Nothing. "Of course no one thought to bring a map," she added sarcastically.  
"That would be too easy - besides, look at all the.. new things we have discovered - that rug for example," said Harry.  
"I don't want to meet that rug ever again," said Ron, shuddering.  
"Hey, I think we've figured it out!" said Hermione, "Everytime we stand around and complain, something important happens - look, here come Crabbe and Goyle. We must be close!"  
"So much for going to look in the mail room," muttered Harry dejectedly.  
"HEY!" Ron strutted up to Crabbe and Goyle, who had stopped at a random portion of bare wall and now were standing half in the secret entrance of the Slytherin common room.  
"What's he doing?" whispered Hermione.  
" 'sif he knows," answered Harry with a shrug.  
Now that Ron had successfully gotten the attention of Goyle and Crabbe, he didn't know what to do with them. He looked at them in their towering dumb heights, and they glared back at him threateningly. "Uh... is M- Draco in - there?" he pointed hesitantly at the wall. An eyebrow on Crabbe's face tilted more downward. "He - He needs to come out.. he needs to - to cast a spell on Hermione because they lost a bet in potions class today!"   
"Oh dear," Hermione rolled her eyes.  
"Oh, I bet they'll buy that," said Harry, watching with anticipation.  
"Yes?" Ron tried to look hopeful.  
"Uh," Crabbe and Goyle looked at each other, then they grinned. "Yeah, wait out here," Crabbe said, and they disappeared into the room.  
Hermione and Harry joined Ron outside the door, the outlines of which they could now see in the stone wall. "Good going, Ron," said Harry.   
"Yeah, you can deal with Malfoy when he comes out," answered Ron.  
  
Soon Malfoy appeared in full blond Slytherin glory - the pale and pointed features, the cultivated expression of _ennui_, the expensive perfectly-tailored emerald robes, and of course Crabbe and Goyle on either side like oversized bookends. When he folded his arms, he made a point of letting Hermione's potions notebook dangle conspicuously from his right hand. "So, it's the Potter three-some again," he drawled.  
"And that's Hermione's notebook!" said Harry, "How'd you get it, Malfoy?"  
Crabbe, in a surprise move, decided to speak. "Hey, you didn't say anything about notebooks - this was supposed to be so he could cast a spell on you!"   
Malfoy rolled his eyes, "That was just a clever ploy to get me out here so I can magnanimously return the notebook, stupid." He sighed. "Honestly, even I knew that and I'm the dumb evil character."  
"I don't know, Malfoy," Harry looked skeptical, "what does that make your friends here?" he tilted his head at Crabbe and Goyle.  
"Rocks," Malfoy answered nonchalantly.  
"Uh.." Goyle looked concerned.   
"I mean rock-hard fortresses of loyalty," Malfoy went on casually.  
Hermione frowned and stepped forward. "This is silly - why did you take my notebook? Were you planning to use my notes to pass the test?"  
"I took the notebook by mistake," announced Malfoy with his trademarked smirk.   
"You made a mistake?" asked Hermione in mock incredulity.  
"I was about to add that I found nothing of use in your notebook," he sneered, conveniently ignoring her comment. "At least nothing incriminating," he drew out this last word, "not even doodles or sappy love notes."  
"LOVE NOTES! Oh, is that it!? I knew this was some foul plan on part of our author-"  
"Shut up, Mudblood." Malfoy tossed the book at Hermione, who was too enraged to move. Luckily, Ron caught it in clinched fist before it hit her. The two of them stood fuming.  
"But aren't you going to confess your undying love for her?" asked Harry plaintively.   
Malfoy gave his very best teenaged "give me a break" look and turned to go.  
But Harry caught him by the shoulder. "What about -for me, Draco?" He raised his eyebrows in hope.  
"POTTER!" Malfoy drew his wand threateningly. Crabbe and Goyle looked appropriately more menacing. "I'm too busy being your evil cowardly foil to worry about forming romantic attachments to ANYONE!" he stormed back inside, muttering to himself. "Bloody Gryffindors.. wait until You-Know-Who comes to power.." There was a pause as the door closed and then reopened, as Crabbe's robe had gotten stuck in it.  
"Think there's hope for me?" asked Harry. Hermione slapped him as Crabbe slammed the door shut.

* * *

"Well! Who'd have thought - Malfoy all along!" said Ron as they lounged triumphantly before the fireplace in the Gryffindor common room. Well, Harry and Ron lounged; Hermione, now in possession of the precious notebook, was studying at a brightly-lit table. Other students, nonplussed at tales of the latest "adventure," ("Ventriloquism - sorry pastime") had retired for the evening.   
"I am still fond of the Filch idea," said Harry.   
"Yeah, that was good, Hermione," admitted Ron.  
"Know what's better?" she replied curtly. "Dandelion paste and emu oil will cure bites from most poisonous insects, provided that the mixture is applied within two hours of the initial bite."  
"Good thing I keep emu oil on me at all times," retorted Ron.  
"Maybe we should steal the emu oil from Snape's office," suggested Harry, his eyes lighting up at the prospect of another near-death encounter with the potions master.  
"I think we should study!" said Hermione. "What's the point in getting my notebook back if we don't?"  
"Well, we did fight bravely and courageously...and.. er," Ron trailed off.  
"Fearlessly."  
"Right."  
"I'm sure he wasn't actually planning to give it back to me," Hermione added, obviously not paying attention to the clever wordplay at the fireplace.  
"Of course not - he's too evil for that. He's Big Bad Malfoy in training," Ron called back.  
"Well," Harry began, "I think all his sneering and boasting is just that - a cover - a thin veneer-"  
"Oh bother -here we go again," mumbled Ron.   
"Not listening," announced Hermione.  
"-a thin veneer for a very soft and sensitive inner Draco - he has to MASK his true self with the Draco that fulfills the expectations of his family and friends. But! in reality, he is planning to overthrow his father and the Dark Lord - he is just waiting for his chance.... and he's also looking for someone who can take care of him, love h-"  
"Oh bloody! -- we're having his head checked in the next story, Hermione!" Ron called above Harry's misty-eyed ramblings.  
"Yes, and we'll do that first thing, in as straight-forward a manner possible!" 


End file.
